Under the Southern Sun
by Nienna29
Summary: Set in the American south in the 1840's. Kurama has his head in the clouds, but when Karasu buys the plantation down the road Kurama's life changes forever.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: I'm writing again! I didn't think I actually would. This is an adaptation of a story I wrote for a livejournal community. I thought it fit the Karasu/Kurama pairing pretty well so I thought I'd give this a try. I like to think my style has matured over the years but that may be wishful thinking. Well here it is.

The sun hung low on the horizon painting the tobacco fields a deep red. A lone figure paced the furrowed rows. He blended perfectly into the heavenly scene. His hair shown with a fiery sheen all its own. Even his eyes sparkled, a stunning emerald green. This beauty dressed in white had no destination in mind. A breeze raced across the Carolina countryside just to caress this one's cheek, bringing a subtle blush to the skin.

"Kurama! Come in! Supper's ready!"

Kurama grumbled. He wasn't hungry. He had no desire to obey his mother but he knew he should all the same. His father always criticized his scrawniness so he figured he'd better eat. He relished the last of the fresh air before heading inside. As he climbed the steps onto the vast porch of the plantation house, Kurama had to admit that dinner smelled absolutely mouthwatering.

When he entered the dining room, the whole family already sat around the table. Henrietta, one of the house slaves, was just setting down the last dish of food.

"You're late," Kurama's father admonished sternly.

"I'm sorry, father. I lost track of time."

"Well, let's say grace," his mother cut in in attempt to avoid an argument.

The family clasped their hands and bowed their heads while Kurama's father said the prayer of thanks for the meal.

At the word 'amen' Kurama eagerly dug into his piece of roasted chicken. Seeing the tender meat surrounded with mashed potatoes and collard greens, all smothered in gravy perked his appetite.

"Wow, Kurama. You really seem hungry today. I guess finally getting out of the house made you work up an appetite," Kurama's older sister, Eleanor, commented.

Kurama had to swallow before replying. "I suppose so. Still, I'd like to play the piano for a little bit before I go to sleep. I just don't feel right going through a whole day without playing."

Marie, the oldest of the three Scarborough children, spoke up. "You know Kurama, you really should find something more interesting to do. No woman is ever going to want to marry you at this rate."

"Now Marie, Kurama is only 15. He still has a lot of growing up yet."

Kurama smiled. His mother always came to his rescue. He hadn't minded Maire's comment so much. It was mostly his father that worried him. Kurama couldn't help but feel inadequate under his father's glare. He knew he was a less than ideal heir. He wanted to please his parents but he also wanted to be true to his own character. He wasn't the strong, manly son his father hoped for.

"Have you heard about the man that bought the old Smith plantation?"

All present shook their heads 'no' and waited for Mr. Scarborough to explain.

"He seems like a real gentleman. He's a veteran too. He fought in the War of 1812."

Marie's face fell. She was obviously hoping that the man would be young and handsome but the War of 1812 was almost 30 years ago.

"Does he seem nice?" Kurama asked. "I'd love hear his stories from the War."

"You know, Kurama. I hope you spend time with him. I think he would be a good role model for you."

"Maybe. May I be excused. I'd like to have my piano practice now."

NOTE: This is just a prologue thingy to let you know where I'm going with this. Hopefully you will find it intriguing enough to continue reading and comment.


	2. Chapter 2

The house was quiet. The only sound breaking the silence was the slow, peaceful song Kurama played. His long graceful finger meandered over the keyboard. He knew this song well by now. He just liked to play it sometimes. It seemed the perfect thing for this lazy summer afternoon. Eleanor sat on the window seat studying French. Her long, blond hair shone in the sunlight streaming through the glass. Her lips moved silently as she committed another word to memory.

These were the days that made Kurama happy to be just who he was. His songs always fit his mood. Sometimes he would play a lovely classical piece and sometimes his fingers would make up something all their own. He played as easily as he spoke, more easily even. Even though Eleanor studied, Kurama knew she was listening. She always seemed to know how he felt just by listening to his songs. The two siblings were close and they told each other everything. They were a quiet pair but, together, they held their own against the more outspoken Marie.

A shrill shriek shattered the silence. The bang of feet against the wooden floor echoed through the house.

"Eleanor! He's coming! We have to get ready!"

Kurama's face scrunched in confusion. "Who's coming?"

Marie was not deterred in the slightest but the nonchalance of her siblings. "Mr. Karasu Sakurai is coming for supper! Don't you want to look good for our company?"

"I think I look alright. He's just some old guy anyway," Eleanor replied.

"Suit yourself. Come on, Kurama!"

Kurama groaned when Marie dragged him out of the room and up the stairs. This was standard practice. Kurama and Marie had been the same height most of their lives so Maire decided that he would make an excellent mannequin. Kurama desperately hoped that he would hit a growth spurt soon. Not only did he hope to no longer fit into his sisters dresses, but he hoped to be taller simply because he wanted to reach 6 feet.

The door to Marie's room clicked shut ominously. "I'd like to wear something light colored."

Kurama sighed resignedly as he took off his shirt and donned a corset and hoop skirt frame while his sister tossed dress after dress onto the bed.

"I think this green dress would be appropriate. Here, let me tie that for you."

Kurama gasped for air as the corset closed in around him.

"You know, Kurama. It really is too bad you're a boy. You have such a lovely figure. It's almost as nice as mine."

"Just get on with it. I can barely breathe," Kurama wheezed.

To Kurama's dire disappointment, the proceeding continued for the next two hours. Marie put her green dress on him first then tried various pieces of jewelry and gloves and shoes with it. In the end, she decided she didn't like any of it and replaced the green dress with a pink frilly one. Kurama grimaced at his reflection in the mirror. His father would die if he saw this.

"I don't know how I feel about that necklace. What do you think, Kurama?"

"I think my vision is getting blurry."

"Well, I think it's gorgeous. The dress really is too young though, isn't it?"

Marie tossed the pink dress aside and pulled a pale yellow dress over Kurama's head.

"Yes! That's perfect. I need different gloves."

Then the process starred all over again. Marie tried all of the jewelry and all of her shoes and all of the gloves.

"Why, I do declare! This is it. Don't take it off yet. I want to look it over some more. Those shoes really are the finishing touch and that…"

Kurama collapsed.

"Oh! Bless his little heart. He's fainted again."

Kurama woke up on his sister's floor. The room was clean so he must have been out a while, at least long enough for his sister to get the clothes off his dead-weight body, get ready, and clean up her room. He retrieved his shirt from the floor. The ground seemed unsteady beneath his feet. Marie's excited 'He's here! He's here!' wafted up from downstairs. He tugged the shirt over his head and tucked it back in as he hurried to his room to grab his suit coat.

He almost collided with his mother in the hall on his way outside.

"Oh, good," Mrs. Scarborough smiled at her son, "You're all ready. Now come along."

The whole family lined up along the drive to meet the approaching carriage. Marie was practically bursting with excitement. The rest of the family waited calmly. Eleanor caught Kurama's eye. She glanced at Marie and then back at Kurama, rolling her eyes. Kurama grinned back at her. The carriage pulled up in front of the house. Mr. Sakurai's face was turned away from them as he handed the reins of the carriage to a slave. Then he hopped to the ground.

The eyes of the three children widened. Long, silky black hair cascaded down his backand over his shoulders. His face was flawlessly pale and unlined. Keen blue, almost purple, eyes surveyed the family. Mr. Scarborough stepped forward and shook hands with the visitor.

"Karasu, how kind of you to come here at such short notice."

The handsome features creased with a smile. "It was no trouble at all. I didn't want to pass up this opportunity to meet your lovely family."

His gaze lingered especially long on Marie who blushed deeply.

"Why don't we sit on the porch until dinner is ready? I'll have Henrietta bring some sweet tea," Mrs. Scarborough suggested.

"That sound's delightful, Mrs. Scarborough," Karasu responded.

Kurama couldn't stifle the admiration that rose within him. This man was all he ever wanted to be, handsome, charming, everything. He glanced at Eleanor. She seemed almost as enamored as Marie. At the moment, she was brushing off her dress and fixing her hair. Perhaps he wished she had gotten all dressed up as well. Kurama couldn't blame her. He wished _he_ had dressed up more.

Kurama's mother hurried inside to tell the house slaves to serve the tea. The others took seats on the porch. Kurama was last to get a seat and to his simultaneous horror and delight the only remaining seat was on the bench next to Karasu. He discreetly sat down. His father had already begun to talk about business. He inquired about Karasu's plantation and asked if he needed any help or wanted to buy any slaves. As his accent suggested, he was not from the South and he had many questions about the slave market. Mrs. Scarborough returned with two slaves. One brought a chair for her and another brought a tray of iced tea.

Kurama ignored the conversation and looked over at his sisters. They were each trying to get Karasu's attention as inadvertently as possible. Kurama noticed a rather nice fragrance in the air. He breathed a little deeper, trying to discern the source of the scent. To his surprise, he realized that he was smelling Karasu. The scent was subtle, a mix of spices and gunpowder. He wondered if Karasu could smell him too. He desperately hoped that he didn't stink.

"You don't have a wife? Why that's terrible."

Marie's voice jolted Kurama to wakefulness.

"No, I don't," Karasu replied. "Unfortunately, my wife passed away some years ago."

Marie perked up. "Do you think you'll get married again?"

"Perhaps." The suggestive tone in his voice was unmistakable. "I might marry again if I find a woman that strikes my fancy."

"What kind of woman would that be?"

Eleanor jabbed Marie for asking such an improper question but all she accomplished was to hurt her elbow on one of the whalebones in Marie's corset.

Karasu obliged her question and described a woman suspiciously like Marie. Mrs. Scarborough was beginning to get antsy about the direction of the conversation. Kurama cut in and relieved the tension.

"Sir," Kurama began. He was met with a pleasant smile from the man next to him.

"Call me Karasu. Your father hoped that we might become friends after all."

"If you'd like. Karasu, my father mentioned that you fought in the War of 1812. I was looking forward to hearing any stories you'd be willing to share."

Karasu's eyes lit up and he launched into an impressive tale recounting the unsuccessful defense of the White House against the advancing British and how Dolly Madison, the first lady at the time, rescued many treasures from the blazing presidential mansion including a portrait of George Washington, the nation's first president. Kurama listened raptly. Karasu continued on about what it was like to be a teenager in the military. He told many more stories, some about defeats some about victories. He seemed unusually preoccupied with fire and cannons.

Before long the rest of the family got bored. One by one, each made some excuse to go indoors until Kurama and Karasu sat alone on the porch.

"I wish I could do something exciting like go to war," Kurama sighed.

A serious look came over Karasu's features. "War is a nasty thing. A boy like you is far more suited to a beautiful place like this."

Kurama frowned. "Are you implying that I'm too fragile?"

"No." Karasu's smirk was unsettling and alluring at the same time. "I'm implying that you're beautiful."

"But I don't want to be beautiful," Kurama pouted. "I want to be strong and manly like you."

The smirk was back. "I like you just as you are. There are enough strong and manly men in this world. You are something far more rare and precious."

Kurama's breath caught as Karasu caressed his cheek. His hand was cool despite the sweltering summer heat.

The two stared at each other, Karasu's smoldering gaze raping Kurama's wide, innocent eyes.

"Dinner's ready you two." Henrietta broke the strained quiet.

"Thank you. We'll be right in."

When Henrietta left, Karasu turned back to Kurama. "Meet me at your gate after I leave and I'll show you just how I feel about you." With that, he swooped in and placed a chaste kiss on Kurama's lips. Then he was gone, into the house.

Kurama sat for a few moments more, dazed. His hand moved up to touch his lips. He felt light-headed and breathless, both confused and flattered.

He shook his head hard to wake himself up and hurried inside. He had a decision to make.


	3. Chapter 3

"What am I doing?" Kurama thought as he walked to the edge of his family's plantation. He felt Karasu's eyes on him all through dinner though he tried to ignore it. Still, he didn't have much of an appetite with all the thoughts swirling in his mind. He couldn't understand Karasu one bit. After they went inside, he went back to flirting with Marie and Eleanor. No one paid any attention to him with the exception of a comment from his father: "Eat up, Rory. You don't want to scrawny forever." It seemed strange that his father used his real name. Everyone called him Kurama since he was a baby.

Maybe that's why he decided to meet Karasu. He called Kurama beautiful, not frail or scrawny or measly. He really seemed o think that Kurama was a worthy person just as he was. Nevertheless, Kurama could not shake the feeling of foreboding that grew the nearer he got to the gate. What did Karasu mean when he said that he'd show him how he felt. Then there was the issue of the kiss. Kurama had never been kissed like that before. Wasn't that gesture something that a man did to a woman? It didn't make any sense. A large part of what drew him onward was the urge to assuage his curiosity.

His pulse sped up at the sight of the dark figure waiting just beyond the metal bars. What would happen when he stepped outside his sanctuary? Belatedly, Kurama realized that he'd never been outside the plantation gates without his family. The gravel crunching beneath his feet was red in the waning daylight, making it look as though he walked through Martian dust rather than on the Earth of this own home.

The dark figure turned to face him and Kurama stopped breathing for the moment that Karasu's gaze took hold of him. It beckoned him to continue. Before he realized what he was doing Kurama stepped over the threshold and took the offered hand. Without a word, Karasu pulled him into his carriage and they were off.

"What have I done? What have I done?" Kurama's mind screamed. This just didn't seem right. They had only met this afternoon. Everything was happening too quickly. Why was he even going along with this? He glanced over the side of the carriage. Could he jump out? What if he was just being paranoid? His father trusted Karasu. Perhaps the other man simply wanted to have tea and discuss self-esteem. Why did he kiss him then? Yes, this was all wrong, but when Kurama looked up, he saw that it was already too late. They were pulling up in front of the house. Karasu handed off the carriage and told the slaves that he was not to be disturbed.

"So no one will hear me scream," Kurama thought. Then he felt a large hand wrap around his and he reluctantly went into the house. They did not go into the drawing room but up the stairs. Kurama tried desperately to keep his wits about him but panic nagged at the edges of his consciousness. He fought the urge to scream and run when the bedroom door shut behind him.

"W-why are we in your bedroom?" Kurama tried unsuccessfully to keep his voice steady.

"I told you I would show you how I feel about you." Kurama's eyes flicked frantically around the lavish room for a route of escape as Karasu advanced on him.

"Are you going to kiss me again?"

"Yes, and so much more."

Karasu smothered whatever Kurama intended to say. Kurama squirmed as a tongue invaded his mouth. That sweet scent surrounded him then and as he relaxed, he felt a hand stroking his hair. It all felt strange but strangely good. He felt almost feverish and his mind seemed suddenly foggy. Karasu's lips moved to his neck and Kurama let his head fall back to give the other better access. He felt his coat slip from his shoulders and deft fingers working at the buttons on his shirt. As the second garment fluttered to the floor, Karasu's lips moved lower.

"You have such lovely shoulders," the sultry voice purred. All Kurama could manage for a response was a moan deep in his throat. Cool hands had begun to toy with his nipples. Kurama gasped as he was swept off the floor without warning. When Karasu set him down on the bed, worry came alight within him once more. What was Karasu going to do? Already this was wrong. He could go to Hell for this, for letting another man do these things to him. Not to mention, if his parents ever found out he would be in more trouble than he could imagine. The sight of Karasu removing his shirt distracted Kurama from his thoughts. He had the nicest body Kurama had ever seen. Long, lean muscles flexed beneath startlingly pale skin. All the same, Kurama sat up and made for the edge of the large bed.

His back hit the mattress hard. A moist tongue attacked Kurama's nipples.

"Karasu, please, we should stop this," Kurama protested, trying to push the heavier man off him. "This isn't right. I'm not…ugh…I'm not comfortable with this."

Karasu smirked as he ground his hips against Kurama's. The younger was getting hard quickly and his breathing came in deep gasps. "Your body would suggest otherwise."

"No! Let me go." Still, Kurama made no move fight. On the contrary, his hips arched upward and his hands grasped the coverlet. His mind felt clouded again and his body wouldn't obey his mind. Even when his lower half met the air inch by inch, no objection left his mouth.

"Beautiful, so beautiful," Karasu murmured, caressing Kurama's inner thigh. The red-head had no idea he'd even spread his legs. It was just instinct. Soon the caresses stopped and Kurama whined. Karasu chuckled and Kurama almost wished he hadn't been so insistent.

"Let me go!" he screamed. "What do you think you're doing? You're hurting me!"

Tears ran down Kurama's cheeks as Karasu violated him. Karasu's free hand gripped Kurama's hair and he swallowed the boy's scream. However, soon the screams changed to moans.

"Ugh, yes," Kurama gasped breathlessly.

"That's right, my darling. I mean to pleasure you."

Kurama writhed in pleasure now. He felt something building in his stomach. His pleasure addled brain didn't analyze it, just enjoyed it. His hips raised to meet the thrusts. He gasped as Karasu shuttered and released inside of him. Then white exploded across his vision.

It wasn't until his vision cleared that Kurama realized that he had screamed. He fought to calm his breathing. What just happened?

"You were amazing," Karasu whispered, showering kisses over his face, which scrunched as he was left empty.

"I can't believe I let that happen. Who knew I was nothing but a common whore?"

"Don't say that!" Karasu gathered his young lover into his arms. "I wanted to make love to you to show you how much you mean to me."

"How can I mean anything to you? You haven't even known me for 24 hours."

"Love at first sight."

"Sure. I'm going home."

Kurama pulled his clothes on and walked all the way back to his house. Karasu made no effort to go after him.

NOTE: I toned down the scene at the end from the original version to comply with rating standards.


	4. Chapter 4

Kurama blinked at the bright sun streaming into his window. He grunted and rolled over. His backside hurt both from being penetrated and from the beating his father had given him for coming in so late and getting his shoes muddy. It had been years since he'd gotten the paddle and he couldn't figure out if it seemed to hurt more now because he wasn't used to it or because the area was already tender. He'd asked the a bath be drawn for him under the pretense of washing off sweat and mud but what concerned him more was Karasu's scent lingering on his skin. He just felt dirty. He'd scrubbed long after the water went cold but he never could rid himself of the filthy feeling that smothered his senses.

Now he bathed in the morning light. He felt that is cleansed him far more than water. It heralded a new day. The night was over. It was time for a new start. He gingerly scooted over to the edge of his bed, which was every bit as lavish as Karasu's. The smooth white cotton sheets slid soothingly over Kurama's bare legs. A thin nightshirt was all he wore to bed during summer's sweltering nights. He'd kicked he bedspread off into a corner sometime during sleep and a thin sheen of perspiration made the fabric of the nightshirt and his hair to stick uncomfortably to his skin.

Kurama shoved his feet through the gap in the mosquito netting surrounding his sleeping area and stumbled sleepily over to open his window. To his relief, a breeze washed over him. He then walked over to the washbasin. Sometime in the early morning, a slave had placed a fresh pitcher of water beside it. He poured the liquid into the bowl and whisked his shirt off. He closed his eyes and took a moment to revel in the sensation of the gentle wind caressing his bare skin but only a moment. Today was Sunday. He had to hurry up so as not to be late for church. He took up the cloth resting on the wash table. Then he dipped it in the water. It felt good to run it over his face and then his neck. He wet the cloth again, ringing it out then he washed his back as best he could and then swiped the cloth over his chest.

A shiver ran down his spine then as the cloth's passage over his nipples reminded him of last night, when Karasu touched him there. Instinctively, his free hand grasped the silver cross necklace hanging around his neck. Seeing that Kurama was a conscientious child, his grandfather gave it to him on his 6th birthday. He'd never taken it off since that day almost 10 years ago. It was then that he realized that Karasu had carefully avoided the necklace. He'd touched the nipples on either side of it but never the necklace itself. That though causes Kurama to cling to it even more firmly. Even after he finished washing and began dressing, the familiar weight around his neck gave him comfort. Then the door burst open.

"AH! Oh, Maire. It's only you."

"Kurama! You're not even dressed yet? We're leaving now."

"What? Already?"

Kurama snatched up his coat and pulled one boot on. He scanned the room for the other one. Where was it? He proceeded to scamper around searching for the other.

"It's under the bed," Maire said, shaking her head scoldingly.

Kurama's eyes darted to where his sister pointed. Sure enough, there was his boot. He pounced on it and thrust his foot into it.

"Are you ready now?"

"Yes. Let's go."

Kurama felt much better already sitting in the carriage with his family as usual. He was so busy chatting with Eleanor that he didn't even notice when they passed the gate of Mr. Sakurai's plantation. His heart rose even more as they rolled into town. He could already see the steeple of the Episcopal church. This was how it should be. This was life back to normal. Kurama liked going to church. It was a peaceful experience and the building and the ceremony were beautiful to watch. Church was a place he always felt secure. He knew and liked everyone there and they knew and liked him. And, of course, there was plenty of music. Church was his sanctuary so why did the foreboding surround him like a shroud of doom? What was that scent on the wind? It couldn't be!

Kurama's heart sank. There was Mr. Sakurai standing on the church lawn talking to old Miss Sadie. Why? Why did he have to be here? Kurama wanted to cry, scream, something. He couldn't though so he contented himself with placing his hand on his chest, feeling the outline of his necklace through his shirt.

"Kurama." He jumped and glanced at his concerned mother. He realized everyone was already out of the carriage and they were waiting for him.

"Kurama dear, are you feeling alright. You're acting more distant than usual. Are you sick?" Kurama sighed in irritation as his mother brushed his hair aside and placed a hand on his forehead undoubtedly checking to see if he had a fever.

"I'm fine," Kurama grumbled, swatting his mother's hand aside.

Mrs. Scarborough just smiled. "I know honey. I just can't help worrying about you. I'm your mother. It's my job."

Kurama weakly returned her smile. Despite the annoyance it caused, his mother's gesture did serve to lighten his mood. It comforted him that she was there worrying about him. Karasu wouldn't dare do anything to him under her watchful, maternal vigil. He realized that if his parents found out what happened last night his father would be probably angry at him, but his mother would probably murder Karasu for sullying her only son. Kurama's lips spread into a smile at the thought.

His mirth was short lived, however, for as he looked up, Mr. Sakurai's predatory stare pinned him immediately. He could move. He couldn't breathe. He could almost feel the other man's hands on him again, holding him down, touching him where he didn't wish to be touched.

"Iiii! Kurama don't you see?" Marie's excited shriek brought Kurama back to the land of the living.

"What am I supposed to see?" he asked, still wincing from the high-pitched screech emitted from right behind him.

"Karasu was looking right at me. I wonder if he means to court me?"

Kurama sighed, "Well, good for you and you know, I'm sure he can hear you."

Marie's eyes went wide at the realization and clapped a hand over her mouth. Confirming Kurama's suspicions, Karasu laughed and walked off toward the church steps.

"Oh my stars!" Marie whined, whipping out her fan and fanning herself frantically. "I'm ruined. What he must think of me…"

Kurama watched, bewildered. "He probably just thinks you're a little silly."

"I know it. I know it. He'll never want to marry me. Why, he'd be more likely to marry you, Kurama. He seems to like you better than any of us. You two were on the porch talking for an hour!"

Kurama's mind scrambled for a response. "It was nothing," he stammered. "He probably was just glad to have someone listen to his stories. You know how old people are."

Marie huffed and muttered something about the fact that Kurama's bad taste in men was to be expected. Just then, the bells rang the hour and those on the lawn filed into the building. Kurama tried to stay close to his parents. He didn't want to get stuck beside Karasu for an entire hour. The family entered the building the headed for their regular pew. Kurama suppressed a groan. There _he_ was. Why did he have to choose their spot out of all the empty pews in the church? It couldn't be helped. Kurama managed to put Marie between Karasu and himself, much to Marie's delight.

Throughout the service, Kurama kept his eye carefully trained on the priest. Still, he could feel those eyes on him from time to time. Marie obviously thought that the gaze was for her but Kurama knew better, could feel the elder man undressing him with his eyes. Kurama wished the Marie would just give up this infatuation. It was now clear that Karasu desired him above all others.

As the congregation recited the Nicene Creed Kurama realized with dread what part of the service approached, the Peace. Everyone would greet and shake hands with the people around. He didn't know how he would react to touching Karasu. Even though he knew nothing bad would happen, it was the principle of the thing. He didn't know if he could deal with being touched by that man every Sunday.

"May the peace of the Lord be with you."

"And also with you."

Kurama took a deep breath and plastered on a smile. It turned genuine as he shook his parents' hands and wished them peace. It was likewise for Eleanor and even Marie. He turned around and greeted the family in the row behind. Maybe he could avoid Karasu this week. It was too much to hope for. Karasu shook Marie's hand, causing her to giggle vapidly. Then he proffered his hand to Kurama. The redhead reluctantly took it and, for that brief moment, two pairs of eyes met. Kurama couldn't move, couldn't breathe. Karasu's intoxicating scent washed over him and he was lost. Then the moment was gone.

The priest called the congregation to order and the service continued as it had. Kurama still felt the glances but, for some reason, they didn't bother him quite as much. He was too distracted with images of last night flitting through his mind. Was it really so bad? He couldn't deny that Karasu gave him great pleasure indeed. The memory of those smooth, cool hands ghosting over his skin sent a shiver down his back.

A concerned glance from his mother snapped Kurama back to reality. Great, now she'd be completely convinced that he had a fever. He just shivered in the midst of stifling summer heat. Their row went to communion then. Karasu did not go up to the altar, forcing Kurama to brush past him. He fought another shiver when their legs touched for the briefest instant. Kurama wondered why Karasu didn't want to take communion. That was what the whole service led up to after all. He dismissed the abstention. He'd never know the reason so why wrack his brain wondering? Thankfully, he went back to his seat from the other direction the rest of the service finished in peace.

When he escaped into the fresh air he went to find an out-of-the-way place to wait for his parents to exchange pleasantries. His stomach rumbled. He wondered what Henrietta cooked for Sunday dinner. He mused over all of the delicious treats possibly awaiting him. The wished his parents would stop talking before his stomach digested itself.

Just then, none other than Karasu walked into view. Kurama shrunk back into the shadows. Then, to his surprise, Marie followed and Karasu took both her hands in his.

"Maire darling, I have thought of nothing but you since we met. I realize now that I you are the one for me."

What was he doing? Why was he kneeling down?

"Marie, will you marry me?"

"We…I… Yes! Of course I will!"

An hour ago, Kurama was certain he hated this man. Why, then, did he feel betrayed?

A/N: So the plot thickens! Expect an update soon. I'm working on Chapter 7 right now. Any feedback would be much appreciated. Also, I think I may adapt another story I've written to condition my brain for a sequel so be on the lookout for that as well.


	5. Chapter 5

Warning: I didn't edit this for content at all so look out and skip ahead if you need to.

Curtains fluttered in the early autumn breeze. Kurama paid them no heed. He had more pressing matters to attend to. How could this happen? He asked himself these questions every night but still had yet to find an answer. Well, he had _an_ answer but that simply couldn't be it. He couldn't accept that Karasu just said that he loved him so that he could have relations with him. "No," Kurama thought, "He loves me. He has to love me. If he doesn't, then that would mean…" he never got farther than this. At this point, he'd always feel dirty. Still, he couldn't help himself.

His hand snaked under the sheet. He closed his eyes and caressed his thigh, imagining that Karasu was touching him. The blood rushed to his neater regions. He could feel himself getting hard. Kurama gripped his own length now. He desperately wished to feel breath on his neck and a body over him. Kurama's hand moved up and down, digging him deeper into sin at a slow, sensuous pace. The sheets tangled around long graceful legs. He thrust his hips as his pace became more frantic. He just wanted that feeling again. He wanted to feel loved again. Tears pricked at tightly shut eyes before racing down Kurama's smooth, flushed cheeks, stealing their warmth so that he could almost imagine that they were Karasu's cool fingers. In his frustration, he pumped his length harder. It just wasn't enough. He didn't want to feel the pleasure only. He also wanted to feel the firm thrusting into him. He wanted to feel something inside. He did something different this time, something he'd though about all these weeks but never had the courage to try.

He took a deep breath and shoved a finger into himself. It burned just as it had that night and it took considerable effort not to let out a peep. This was right. He shoved a second finger in despite the pain and began to thrust. It still hurt. He remembered that Karasu had three fingers inside him so he forced in another, he was now crying from physical pain rather than emotional. He kept thrusting. It would feel good. Karasu made it feel good. Kurama experimented with different angles and depths. Finally, a shallow thrust toward the front of his body sent a shock of pleasure through him and a soft moan escaped. He stopped for a moment, panting, straining to hear if he'd woken anyone. When he heard no stirring, he put his free hand over his mouth and continued to jab at that spot. His hips began to roll to meet his fingers and he wanted so badly to remove his hand from his mouth in order to breathe better but he knew he couldn't with the way he was moaning. That now familiar feeling was building within him. Kurama shoved his fingers into himself even harder. He longed for release. He drove for it again and again until finally light flashed behind his eyelids and faded back to black.

Kurama pulled his fingers out and grimaced when the pain returned. He sighed. What he'd done felt good to his body but contained no emotional substance. He didn't feel loved. He felt alone and pitiful and perverted. As he drifted off to sleep, he wished that Karasu never entered his life. "No," a bitter voice inside reminded, "ruined my life." Tomorrow Karasu and Marie would be married, binding him to Kurama forever. After tomorrow, there was no escape.

"Kurama, hurry and get more flowers," his mother called. They were helping to put the finishing touches on the church decorations. The guests would start arriving any minute now. Kurama dabbed his forehead and upper lip with his handkerchief. The weather was still stiflingly hot at this time of year and Kurama spent most of the day running around, trying to keep up with everything he needed to do to make Marie's wedding absolutely perfect. Ha snatched the last of the lilies from the sacristy and brought them to his mother.

"Thank you, dear. You've been such a help." Kurama grinned as his mother smoothed his tousled hair affectionately. "I declare, your face is as red as a tomato in July. Go help Karasu get ready until you need to be back here. Maybe you'll cool down a little if you're not running around."

Kurama's smile fell. He didn't want to go anywhere near Karasu but, of course he couldn't tell his mother anything about that so he started of toward the groom's dressing room. Contrary to his mother's wishes, Kurama felt his face heat up and his heart beat faster the nearer he got to his destination. His hand shook as he pushed the door open.

He breath froze. There Karasu stood, shirtless. He looked like a marble statue in that moment and Kurama felt captivated once again.

"Come in, Kurama," the smooth, sensuous voice floated in the air. Kurama didn't even realize he'd walked farther into the room until a cool caress on his cheek made him jump. He realized then that he and Karasu were alone in the room.

"You look too warm, my dear," Karasu cooed, slipping Kurama's coat off and beginning to unbutton his shirt.

"M-my mother told me to help you get ready for the ceremony," Kurama stammered.

"And you are helping me," Karasu argued, tossing Kurama's shirt on a nearby chair. Kurama shivered as Karasu took him in his arms and he found himself leaning into the embrace both because the other man's skin felt soothing in the heat of the room and because it somehow felt right. He closed his eyes and smiled at the feeling of a hand stroking his head, now resting on Karasu's shoulder.

"You see," Karasu whispered, "I'm feeling tense and your presence is so very calming. I wish I could marry you instead of your sister, but this way at least I have an excuse to see you whenever I want. You're so beautiful."

Karasu raised Kurama's face to look at him before capturing the boy's lips. Kurama responded immediately. He didn't know what it was about this man that attracted him so. He was so terrified of him yet desired him. He didn't even object when he felt his pants sliding down his legs and hands caressing his bottom. Karasu moaned into the kiss and gripped harder, pulling Kurama closer. He didn't even question when Karasu handed him a cruet of oil and commanded him to prepare himself. The fact that this was probably holy oil didn't faze him a bit at the moment. He poured some onto his fingers and hastily shoved them into himself.

Karasu took his arms and moved him to lie on his back on the floor, legs splayed obscenely. "That's it," he muttered, leaning forward over Kurama's body to nibble lightly on his shoulder. Kurama moaned softy and Karasu bit down harder. At Kurama's gasp he released the flesh and lapped at the blood oozing from the wound. Kurama sighed as though the pain was the most comforting thing he'd ever felt. The moans returned, however, when Karasu undid his own pants. He dove in just in time to swallow Kurama's cry of surprise. Upon releasing the young one's mouth, he whispered, "Stay quiet for me won't you, darling?" Kurama nodded and Karasu began to thrust into him.

They had 90 minutes until Kurama had to take his place as best man. Karasu spent 60 of those minutes pounding onto the sweet body. By the time Kurama was dressed again and returning to his family, he wasn't sure if he was light headed because of Karasu's tendency to bite him during sex or because of having three orgasms.

"Kurama! Where have you been?" asked Eleanor, who was to be the maid of honor.

"I was helping the groom get ready for the ceremony."

Eleanor giggled. "I guess it's okay if we call him Karasu. He will be our brother after all."

A shiver ran down Kurama's spine. He'd never thought of it that way. He'd just had sex with his brother-in-law-to-be. It didn't seem like this would be the last encounter of that sort either. It was so improper. That was the type of thing one would expect in the mountains, not here among civilized Piedmont folk.

"Are you alright?" Kurama belatedly realized that Eleanor had been watching him the whole time.

"I'm fine," Kurama answered but his sister didn't look convinced. She reached foreword and placed a hand on his forehead. You feel warm and you're very pale. I'll be right back."

Kurama frowned as his sister hurried off without any explanation. He figured all he could do was to stay put until she returned. Fortunately, she wasn't gone long. Eleanor returned a minute later.

"Here."

Kurama smiled as he took the proffered cup and took a sip. Eleanor had been kind enough to bring him some lemonade and he had to admit that he felt much better now and he said so.

"What would you do without me?"

"Die of thirst I guess," Kurama chuckled.

Kurama honestly felt good. He knew he had no right to. As Eleanor retuned his cup to its rightful place, guilt began to creep into Kurama's consciousness. That old feeling was returning, that dirty feeling. It seemed like the only time he escaped it was when he was with Karasu.

He pondered on this even after the wedding began. Even as he watched Karasu pledge eternal devotion to another, we couldn't help but wonder if Karasu needed him just as he seemed to need Karasu. Did the elder also feel cleansed by Kurama? Was he cheating Marie by letting her go through with this when he knew Karasu actually loved him?

By the time the happy couple walked out of the church side by side, Kurama was back to feeling like a rat again. He felt even worse when Karasu flashed him a smile on their way to the reception picnic.  
He couldn't face the world. He couldn't face Marie. But most of all he couldn't face himself.


	6. Chapter 6

Kurama had been staring at the same page for the last hour and a half. He sat curled up on the window seat in his room, his forehead resting against the cool glass pane. The eastern horizon drew his gaze. Karasu was there, over the earth's curve. He and Marie were still on their honeymoon on the coast and Kurama couldn't help but think that he should be out there, feeling the chill ocean breeze on his face, instead of Marie. He watched with half-interest a withered leaf drop into the dust of the front drive. Kurama could stand this no more.

He tossed his book aside and leapt to his feet. Stealthily, he tiptoed across the hall into Maire's vacated room. All her things remained just as the day she left. Kurama knew exactly what he was looking for. He shut the door and quickly stripped down. With a few last deep breaths, he struggled into a corset and hoop, tying the corset as tightly as he could from his odd angle. Then he reached into the wardrobe and took out Marie's wedding dress. He carefully slipped it over his head and when he'd done up the fastenings, he cautiously stepped over to the mirror.

A smile played at the corners of his mouth. Karasu was right. He was beautiful, more beautiful even than Marie. He also noticed with pride that the dress was too short. Now that he thought about it, it made sense that he'd be taller. His voice had deepened since that fateful summer day when Karasu gave him his first kiss, and he had plucked plenty of hairs off his face recently. Soon he knew he would have to break down and just start shaving. He felt justified and hurt at the same time. He knew for sure now that Marie would live a life rightfully his, but at least he could be certain that these feelings were not simply juvenile pining for Karasu. Karasu wanted him too.

Resolved in this, he took off the dress and once back in his normal attire, he skipped down the stairs only to plop onto the piano bench. He began to practice the piece he'd been working on all week but it somehow felt too somber. He was in a good mood and the sun had finally peaked out from the cloud-cover, bathing him in golden warmth. Unable to continue with his current piece, Kurama broke into a cheerful folk song.

He smiled when he reached the second verse and a familiar voice joined in. He grinned at Eleanor as he played and she smiled back. In his joy, Kurama piped up when hey got to the chorus. This earned him a whack on the head. He stopped playing to rub his stinging scalp. However, his smile didn't falter. His singing was officially banned from the house after his mother declared him incapable of carrying a tune.

"Your singing sounds especially ghastly today," Eleanor commented. "That must mean something good's happened."

Kurama's grin widened. "I think I've grown another inch!"

"Let me see."

Kurama stood up and stepped toward his sister until they were toe to toe.

"Why, I do believe you're right! Your mouth is at eye level now. Thank God! I thought I'd be staring at that horrid nose forever."

It was Eleanor's turn for a whack.

"You hit a lady, you beast!"

"You're not a lady yet. We're kids after all."

Eleanor's expression turned serious. "Kurama, I was just going to tell you that father said I could go with him to Raleigh in the spring."

"That sounds like fun. Why didn't you ask if I could go too?"

"I don't mean to come back."

"What? Why?"

"I hope I'll find a husband there."

Kurama's heart sank. His sister was his best friend in the world. He couldn't imagine life without her.

Noticing her brother's distress, Eleanor tried to comfort him.

"Don't worry, Kurama. You're growing onto such a handsome man. Soon you'll find a pretty lady that will make you forget all about me and I'll have to pester you to visit."

Kurama's mood didn't brighten. Perhaps she was right but the real question was, could this person make him forget about Karasu.

"Could you grab those dresses, Henrietta?"

"Why sure, Ma'am."

"Rory. Rory! Rory!!!"

Kurama jumped. "I'm sorry, Mother. You hardly ever use my real name."

"I know, dear," Mrs. Scarborough sighed. "My mind is all turned around in circles. Would you and go with this next cart load and help Marie out?"

Kurama nodded and went to get into the cart before there was no room for him. The countryside was abuzz now that Marie and Karasu were back from their honeymoon. Now all of Marie's things had to be transported to her new home. Kurama scowled at the pile of things in the back of the cart. There was no room for him as it was so he jumped up to the seat at the front beside old George, wondering how all of this stuff ever fit in the house. The aged slave smiled at him and he returned the gesture.

He remembered the days when George would ruffle his hair and tell him stories passed down from Africa and he wished that childish innocence could have gone on forever but that's not how things worked. Now that Kurama was older, the slaves all maintained a respectful distance. Kurama would be the master one day. He knew they all thought that Kurama would grow up to be like his father, stern and heavy-handed, but Kurama had other plans. He'd played with the slave children. He grew up with them and he still remembered all of their names and he still cried when they were sold. Yes, Kurama vowed that things would be different once he made the rules.

"You look mighty pleased, Master Rory. You must be glad to see your sister again," George commented.

"Yes. The time's gone fast though. I can't believe it's winter already. It seems like it'll be cold this year. I'll talk to father about getting some extra fire wood to the cabins."

George's smile widened. "Why, thank you kindly. That's right nice of you."

The wagon lurched forward and they started toward the gate.

"It's no trouble," Kurama muttered, worry overtaking him. "No one should have to freeze in the snow."

He had no idea how he would feel seeing Karasu again. Already he felt jealous of Marie. He only hoped he could contain his emotions enough to avoid ruining his relationship with his sister.

When the cart pulled up to the door of the house, Kurama hopped out without hesitation and took a load of dresses into his arms. He just wanted to get this over with. The more he thought about seeing Karasu the more he wanted to sprint straight home.

Shifting the dresses on to one arm, he opened the screen door and started up the stairs toward Karasu's room. Belatedly, Kurama realized that he really shouldn't know where he was going. For all anyone else knew, he'd never set foot in this house before.

Fortunately, he hadn't gone far down the hall when Marie poked her head around the bedroom doorframe. A piercing, girly screech split the air. Kurama gasped for air in his sister's crushing embrace.

"Oh my lord! Kurama! I've missed you so much and look how you've grown. I must throw a party! You'll give every girl there the vapors for sure. Oh! Can I plan your wedding?"

"Marie," Kurama gasped. "You're wrinkling your dresses."

Kurama knew by now what motivated Maire. The excited young woman let her brother go immediately and snatched the dresses away. Kurama followed her into the room.

"Hello, Kurama," Eleanor greeted when he entered. She was busy arraigning Marie's brushes and combs. Kurama waved distractedly, eyes darting around the room.

"Are you alright?" Eleanor asked. "You look kind of…confused."

Indeed, Kurama was confused. The room bore very little resemblance to the one in which Karasu first made love to him. His eyes flicked over to the bed and he shivered. Marie would never know that she was not the first person with whom Karasu shared that bed. At least Kurama hoped she'd never know.

"Kurama?"

"Sorry. It's just… I mean I can't quite picture Karasu sleeping in this room. It's so…frilly. It wasn't always this way, was it?"

"No, no," Marie prattled. "It was so drab and cold before. I've tried to make the best of it though. I'm sure Karasu will thank me. It was simply intolerable before. Don't you think so Eleanor?"

Eleanor looked like frightened deer. "Uh…It was…I don't know. I really do prefer green to pink."

"I suppose it doesn't matter. You're not living here anyway." Maire then hurried downstairs to direct the slaves as they brought in her wardrobe.

"It was so much better before, the room I mean," Eleanor sighed. "Karasu has nice taste for a man, actually. If I were him, I think I'd cry if I walked into my room and saw this."

"I almost did cry when I walked in," Kurama giggled. "This is horrible." He walked over to the lace curtains and poked one of the giant, pink, velvet bows as if it might bite him.

The two then scurried onto the bed to avoid the gargantuan wardrobe progressing across the room.

"That's it. Put it in that corner," Marie instructed from the doorway. "Kurama, Eleanore, would you mind getting the rest of my dresses now that the wardrobe's here?"

The siblings nodded and hurried outside, eager for some fresh air.

Right away, they set about gathering up the remaining garments.

"My arms are full. Can you get the rest?"

Kurama nodded and Eleanor started back toward the door.

"Hello, Karasu. Where have you been?"

Kurama didn't look up. He didn't want to see him.

"I've been at the stables getting Marie's horse settled in her stall. Is Marie almost finished inside?"

"Yes, but I don't know if you'll want to see what she's done to your room," Eleanor warned.

"Oh, it can't be that bad."

"Well I wouldn't want to wake up in that every day. That's for sure."

The screen door thudded shut. Kurama became acutely aware that he was being watched. He could hide no longer. He gathered that last item and straightened up. The first thing he saw were those keen, violet eyes staring straight into his.

"My, how you've gown. You're even lovelier than when I left."

Kurama refused to be drawn in. "Marie says so too." With that, he headed straight for the door, but a strong hand on his shoulder halted his progress.

"I hope to re-familiarize myself with that gorgeous body of yours."

Anger blazed in Kurama's heart and he whirled to meet the other's hungry gaze. To his satisfaction, Karasu flinched a bit. Kurama had grown nearly two inches since they'd met and was now almost eye to eye with Karasu.

"You can hope all you want," Kurama bit out before wrenching his shoulder from Karasu's grip and disappearing into the house.

Kurama's elegant fingers danced over the keyboard. His tunes had been melancholy as of late. He missed Marie. He only saw her now when she visited. He simply couldn't go back to that house. What if Karasu caught him alone? He didn't know if he was strong enough to resist him if it came to force. He was certain now that Karasu would use force if he continued to resist.

He sighed and channeled his feelings into his music. He could faintly hear voices from the kitchen. Eleanor had asked Henrietta to teach her to make biscuits. Just then, there was a knock on the door. Mrs. Scarborough ran to the door, arriving just before one of the slaves.

"It's alright, Josephine. I have it," she assured the slave. When she opened the door, one of the house slaves from Karasu's plantation stood at the door.

"I'm afraid I have bad news. I'm terribly sorry, Mrs. Scarborough."

He handed over a letter written in Karasu's distinctive penmanship. Mrs. Scarborough bade the slave come in and asked Josephine to take him to the kitchen for some bread and milk until she could write a reply.

Kurama stopped playing when he heard his mother sob and run off toward Mr. Scarborough's study. He stood up from the piano bench and rushed into the kitchen. Something was very wrong and he needed to be near his sister.

"Kurama? What are you doing here?" Eleanor inquired.

"We got a letter from Karasu. Mother cried when she read it."

Eleanor's face fell and she struggled out of her apron. Henrietta brushed some flower off Eleanor's dress and shooed her out of the kitchen.

They ran into the foyer just as their parents walked out of the study. To their horror, their father was wiping tears off his cheeks.

"I-is Marie alright?" Eleanor asked cautiously.

Mrs. Scarborough hugged her daughter close. "Marie fell off her horse this morning. She…Her back broke."

Kurama shook his head in disbelief. "Will she ever walk again?"

Mr. Scarborough spoke up. "No, Son. Marie will never do anything again. She's dead."


	7. Chapter 7

Kurama swallowed his tears as the carriage bumped down the drive toward the plantation gate. His heart ached with regret. He wished he had gone to see Marie while he could. Once again, Karasu found another way to ruin his life. If it weren't for him, Kurama might have had many more happy days with his sister. Now Marie was gone.

Kurama shivered as the house neared. He glanced around at his remaining family for comfort. Eleanor sat beside him, holding his hand. The two had been attached at the hip since getting the news of Marie's death. They just couldn't bear the thought of further separation.

The tension in the air was so thick Kurama could swear he was drowning in it. The carriage came to a stop in front of that dreaded house. Eleanor squeezed her brother's hand and the two siblings descended to the ground together. They had an unspoken agreement to face united the death they both knew lay behind the looming front door.

With a deep breath, Kurama knocked. The door opened almost immediately and a slave showed them into the drawing room. There Karasu sat. He looked dejected but Kurama knew he was acting. The rest of the family seemed fooled though and they exchanged teary-eyed condolences. The sight made Kurama sick. It was fake! Karasu was pretending! Couldn't they all see it? He still had that mischievous twinkle in this eye. But then, they didn't know the dark man's sinister side as Kurama did.

The boy followed his family up the stairs and into the bedroom. It was still decked out in lace and pink just as they left it so many months ago. There was a distinct difference, however. Kurama choked back his tears at the sight of Marie's lifeless body resting on the bed. In that moment, he decided he hated that bed as much as he hated Karasu. It seemed like the very worst moments in his live all involved that accursed bed. "We should begin the funeral preparations," Mrs. Scarborough huffed, obviously attempting to swallow her sorrow. All of the sudden she began calling out instructions and everyone scattered. A funeral in the South was a big to do.

Kurama rushed into the study to prepare invitations. His mother must really have been flustered to ask him to do this. Everyone knew his handwriting was atrocious. Yet he set to work diligently to make these invitations the most beautiful things he'd ever written. It was all he could do for Marie now.

Kurama's hand ached. The light of the setting sun colored the snowy paper an ominous russet. It didn't help matters at Karasu's intoxicating scent lingered in the man's study, making Kurama drowsy. He forced himself to finish the last few flourishes on the final invitation. He'd written one to pretty much everyone he could think of. A satisfied feeling radiated though him as he set the letter on the stack. He took a deep breath, preparing to stand up, and gasped.

"Karasu! I…um…I didn't notice you were…"

"You were absorbed in your task. I forgive you."

How long had he been watching? It gave Kurama the creeps.

"I have to take these letters to be delivered," he spoke up and abruptly rose and pushed past Karasu. The older man caught him by the shoulder and spun him around. Kurama's eyes blazed with indignation. He summoned up a retort but he didn't get a chance to voice it. As soon as he opened his mouth, Karasu's locked with his. Kurama shoved him back with all his strength and, for a moment, Karasu looked genuinely frightened.

"Your actions are an insult to my sister's memory," Kurama spat and then he ran from the room before Karasu could react.

He sprinted into the parlor where his mother sat sullenly by the window. She turned her gaze to her son when he entered and smiled weakly at the sight of the pile of papers he carried. Without a word, she took them and flipped through the first few.

"They look lovely, Kurama," she said softy. Kurama couldn't stifle the warm glow he felt at making his mother happy. "Tell you sister we'll be leaving in about 20 minutes." Kurama opened his mouth to ask which sister, but then closed it quickly. He only had one sister.

He bounded up the stairs to where Eleanor kept vigil over Marie's body. She was just where he left her, perched on the chair in the corner. She was no longer sobbing. Eleanor simply sat there looking utterly dejected and unable to tear her eyes away from her sister's body. It was as if she thought that if she kept looking that she might catch a movement, evidence that this nightmare wasn't real.

Kurama knocked softly on the doorframe so as not to surprise her. She sprang up at the sight of her remaining sibling and buried her face in his shoulder. She began to cry all over again and Kurama found it difficult to contain his own sorrow any longer. A tear crept out of the corner of his eye. "Men shouldn't cry. Men shouldn't cry," he repeated to himself, but the tears kept flowing. It was as though his sorrow was so great that it no longer fit inside him and leaked out his eyes.

"I can't believe she's gone," Eleanor murmured as she let Kurama go. Kurama sighed in response and made his way over to the bed. In a way, he too had trouble grasping his sister's death. He reached out and cautiously touched the pale hand. It was cool and it reminded Kurama oddly of the way Karasu's hand felt. He drew away quickly and, on some inexplicable whim, checked for a pulse at Marie's neck. Maybe she wasn't dead. She could just be unconscious.

There was nothing. He hadn't really expected there to be, but he did find something…interesting. There were two puncture wounds right along the vein about three finger-widths apart. Perhaps she fell on a stick. Then Kurama noticed something else, or rather didn't notice it. There should be some evidence of blood pooling along her back. The mortician wouldn't take her away until morning yet there was almost no blood in her body. Something was wrong about all of this and Kurama vowed that he was going to find out what.

Kurama lit the candle on his dresser. He had to solve this mystery. He knew that something wasn't right about Marie's death. Karasu wasn't being completely honest. That much was for certain. Kurama vowed to find the truth. He took the candle, tiptoed down the stairs, and headed for the library. There had to be a book about that really killed Marie.

He managed to get down the stairs without detection and scamper into the library. The only sounds breaking the silence were the swish of his robe and the padding of his slippers on the floor. It was eerie. Kurama had never been out of bed alone this late at night. He couldn't see past the circle of light his candle carved out if the blackness. As he searched the leather-bound volumes, he half expected Karasu to jump out at him and drag him to his doom. When he'd assembled a veritable throng of medical texts, he plopped down in a chair to pour over them. He had to find something that would explain the body's lack of blood.

He researched everything he could think of that might offer an explanation. It just didn't make sense that someone could lose that much blood out of two tiny holes. Kurama's eyes burned and every muscle in his body ached with exhaustion. Finally, he finished searching all of the books on the desk so he returned them to their proper places.

"Maybe I'm thinking about this wrong," he muttered to himself. He scanned the shelves for something that might contain any clues. Karasu said Marie broke her back. Maybe he was telling the truth. Kurama pulled some books relating to that, and _Magical Beasts and Where to Find Them_ just for fun. He could feel his brain turning to mush in his skull. It might do him well to read about something else for a while.

He opened the book to a random page. The article he opened to was about the kappa. Kurama giggled at the picture and read on. This creature lived in Japan so he didn't have to work about it. As funny as it looked, he didn't like the idea of being eviscerated of he couldn't get the thing to bow. He flipped forward.

The Pukka: that was from Ireland. Perhaps his great-grandfather, Rory Scarborough IV encountered this horse spirit back in the old country.

He flipped forward again, and nearly dropped the book. Karasu's piercing stare bored into him. No. The picture wasn't Karasu but there were distinct similarities, not the least of which was the sinister glint in the eyes. Kurama read the title of the article: Vampire.

According to the article, these creatures look human except for a few anomalous qualities, the most notable being a pair of fangs in place of their eyeteeth. Kurama's eyes widened as he thought back to the few kisses he'd shared with Karasu. Yes, now that he thought about it, he felt fangs. At the time, the unexpectedness of these advances precluded any thought to his assailant's dental oddities. Kurama eagerly read on.

_A vampire is exceptionally pale and often wears formal attire._ That was defiantly true of Karasu as well. Even in the muggy Carolina sun he remained completely covered in thick fabric even to the point of wearing gloves and a hat. Reading on, Kurama realized that this strange habit had yet a deeper meaning. _A vampire's greatest threat is the sun. It will burn any exposed skin. Most vampires fall into a deathlike sleep during the day but as they gain age and power, some can overcome this sleep and even venture into daylight if heavily protected. _

"So that's why he wanted to meet me after sunset," he whispered to himself. "He could only remove his clothes at night."

Kurama's brow knitted at reading that vampires could not touch anything holy. Karasu attended church. How could he touch the bread and wine at communion? Then he remembered that Karasu hadn't taken communion. Still, that was something to go on. Kurama wondered if he could get a hold of some holy water, something to carry with him as a defense. He read on. Vampires also possess a hypnotic power to lull their victims into submission. At reading this, Kurama didn't feel quite so silly and weak. It wasn't mere charisma that drew him to Karasu but vampiric magnetism.

Not finding anything else useful in the article, Kurama put the book away and sat back in his chair. He fiddled absentmindedly with his necklace as he thought. There was no way that he could carry around a clove of garlic. He'd repel more than vampires. And Karasu had a standing invitation to the Scarborough home so it didn't matter if Karasu couldn't enter a house uninvited. There had to be something that could protect him. His fingers agitatedly traced the form of the silver cross charm. His eyes widened.

He'd been wearing this cross the night Karasu took him. Why didn't that keep him away? Why didn't it burn him?

"Because he never touched it," Kurama answered his own questions. "He took it off me when he removed my shirt. He must have used the fabric of my shirt to shield his skin."

That would mean that a vampire killed Marie. He cringed at the thought of malevolent fangs piercing his beloved sister. Did she know the truth before the end? Was she afraid? A scenario materialized before his mind's eye: Marie struggling vainly in a supernaturally strong embrace, begging for mercy as the life slowly drained from her. He felt tears well up in his eyes and he buried his face in his folded arms. How could this happen?

Then a sudden thought made Kurama sit bolt upright. Karasu wanted him. A vampire was after him. He clutched almost desperately at his cross charm as the shadows began to morph and swim around him. Any one of them could conceal a prowling hunter. Hyperventilating, Kurama leapt out of his chair and sprinted up the stairs. Even though he was now safe in him own room, huddled under the blankets, Kurama knew he wouldn't be getting any sleep tonight.


	8. Chapter 8

Kurama felt ashamed as sobbing in front of the entire town but he couldn't help it. Marie looked so beautiful laying there in the coffin. He found himself subconsciously pleading that she would just get up. It seemed so likely to happen yet deep in his soul, he knew it wouldn't. That was, perhaps, what was the most painful aspect of the funeral.

When it was his turn to pay his last respects, to stand before the coffin, all he could manage was a choked 'goodbye'. The rest of his family was only slightly more articulate. Really though, what was there to say? In a matter of minutes, the coffin lid would close and Maire would be truly gone forever.

Kurama watched with a wary eye as Karasu tenderly caressed the lifeless cheek. It made him sick. He wanted to scream, attack, to something. He had no right to touch her. He killed her! That tainted, murderer's hand should never sully something so pure. Karasu turned away from the coffin and when he did, he caught Kurama's gaze. The hungry look that flashed there for the briefest millisecond was not one that belonged on the face of a grieving widower. Karasu had been acting the part all along but Kurama knew better. He had to expose this fraud before he hurt someone else. The only problem was that if he told anyone that Karasu was a vampire, he'd be sent straight to the loony bin.

A dismal cloud of despair settled over him as the coffin lid thudded shut with sickening finality. He followed the procession out to the graveyard. The sun shone down warm, coloring everything with it soft, golden light. Sniffing and wiping tears from his cheeks, Kurama mentally cursed the world. How could it be so cheerful when everything was going so very wrong? Karasu was trying to catch his eye again. He could feel the man's stare, so he glared back, letting his pain and rage show. To his surprise, Karasu backed down and averted his gaze for the rest of the service.

Kurama knew it would be hard to live without Marie, he just never thought it would be like this. He never realized how much a part of his life Marie was, even though she hadn't lived at home in months. It seemed that everywhere there were things that she liked or things he wanted to ask her or times he expected her to come bounding into the room to annoy him. Even good moments brought him grief. When something happy or funny happened, his first thought was always, "I can't wait to tell Marie."

Without the hectic funeral preparations to keep him grounded, Kurama became completely absorbed in his music. He played all day and at night, he wrote all manner of sonatas and concertos, pain surging out for him in the form of sound. He barely ate or slept. He knew his family worried about him, but he simply couldn't drag himself back to the real world.

Eleanor took to going out often. He had no idea where she went. While he cared, he couldn't bring himself to ask. Sometimes his family would talk to him as he sat writing. He heard everything they said, whether they thought he did or not, but he had no will to respond, until one afternoon.

Eleanor caught him completely unaware, tackling him in a hug. "Kurama! You'll never guess what happened!"

To her surprise, Kurama turned from his playing to listen intently. Thus encouraged, she continued. "You know how I've been spending so much time with Karasu?"

A chill ran down Kurama's spine. No, he hadn't known. If he had, he'd have put a stop to it right away. He nodded anyway, urging his sister to explain further.

"Well, he said that my presence has been soothing to him and I've helped him with his feelings of loss. Kurama, he's really to get married again."

Kurama's heart rose. Maybe now that he'd found someone else, he'd leave them alone.

"Who does he want to marry?"

Eleanor's shock was visible this time. It was the most Kurama had said in weeks, but so great was her joy that she recovered quickly and answered excitedly, "Me! He asked me to marry him! Isn't this wonderful? Now I can live near you for always."

"No…"

"I didn't catch that."

"No." Kurama felt the hand of dread closing around him. This couldn't happen.

"Kurama, I…"

"No! I can't lose you too. It's him, don't you see?" His breath was fast and shallow. His eyes darted about as if looking for a way to escape this horrific truth.

"What's him? Kurama, what are you talking about?"

"No, not Eleanor. I have to stop him!"

Without another word, he sprinted from the room and out the front door. He didn't stop before he burst, gasping for air, into Karasu's drawing room. He squinted in the dim light. He didn't see anyone there. He ventured up the stairs. Maybe he was taking a nap.

"Of course he's taking a nap," Kurama thought to himself. "The sun hasn't set."

As he turned the doorknob, he realized what a stupid idea this was. The pink was gone and the room was as he first saw it. The red light of the low hanging sun shone through the west-facing window onto a glossy, black coffin resting on the floor. That most defiantly wasn't there before.

"Oh my God! He really is a vampire," Kurama gasped. He began to back away, knowing now that he was in way over his head.

The room darkened and just then, the coffin lid creaked open. A half-strangled sob escaped Kurama's lips as he turned and fled. He never even made it to the door before Karasu was upon him.

"So you know my little secret," came the whisper. "Perhaps I underestimated you."

"You won't marry my sister."

"I will, and there's nothing you can do to stop me."

"I'll die before I let you have her."

"If that's the way it must be."

Kurama sailed through the air and landed on the bed. He scampered toward the edge but Karasu pinned him down.

"I'd like to have you just once more."

Kurama kicked and squirmed but to no avail. His pants were discarded in an instant. He screamed desperately for help even though he knew no one could hear him. Then he felt as though he was splitting in half. This was far more painful than the first time. Karasu gave him no preparation.

Kurama's mind scrambled for something, anything that could help him. Then, his situation got even worse. Karasu leaned down, bearing his fangs. Kurama covered his neck but to no avail. Then, he remembered his one defense. He pressed his silver cross into the nearest bit of vampiric flesh. Karasu cried out in surprise and drew back from him. Kurama seized this moment and made his escape.

He didn't care that his bottom half was completely bare as the ran across the room, through the door and down the hall. He had to get away or he'd be dead for sure. Skidding around the corner, Kurama sprinted down the stairs. Karasu was after him now. He reached for the front door and then bang! His face hit the floor. He slid backwards, pulled by his ankles.

Desperately, Kurama clawed at the wooden planks, screaming and crying. This couldn't be happening. He couldn't die now. His face thudded painfully against the first stair, and then the next, and the next. Though he fought to keep his head up it was no use. Karasu was dragging him too fast. Even latching onto a step did no good. All that accomplished was a sharp yank that sheared off skin and cracked bone. Still he fought.

Despite all his efforts, he ended up back on that terrible bed, broken and bleeding. Karasu ripped the cross from Kurama's neck, ignoring the burn, and tossed it away. All the lovely blonde could do was cry softly as the life drained from his body. His last words gently stirred his killer's glossy black hair: "I'm sorry, Elenore."

A/N: Yeah, I know it's short but that's how it turned out, but don't worry. There's one more chapter.


	9. Epilogue

It's the spring of my 310th year on this earth and by now I don't even notice the beauty of the world around me. Today however, I can't help but do just that. The blossoming trees seem so right, as though the casket I follow through the cemetery cannot contain the beauty resting therein.

Kurama was the loveliest creature I've even laid eyes upon. It's a shame my time with him was so short, but he was too beautiful and too intelligent for this world. There is too much power in that combination. So I say farewell and content myself with his other sister. I hope for her sake she isn't as smart as her siblings were.

Marie found out my secret too. She seemed the dumbest of the three but I now see that that's still quite smart. She noticed that I was always gone during the day and I told her I was working and shouldn't be disturbed. Early that fateful morning, the willful girl came to me anyway and saw the coffin, even opened it. The sunlight from the window began to burn my skin. Roused from my slumber, I closed the drapes. I knew she had to go and so I drank her blood, drank it until she died. Seeming distraught and concocting a story was all too easy. Untimely deaths happen every day after all.

Killing Kurama saddened me far more. I wish he fell fully under my hypnosis. I wish he could have accepted me and become my human minion. I would have taken such good care of him, given him everything he could ever want. When I saw the way he looked at me at Marie's funeral, I knew that could never be. He too was willful. Marie seemed stupid; Kurama seemed weak. I know now that these siblings are more than they seem. I know this with utter certainly as I watch the last bit of dirt fall into place over Kurama's grave.

After I killed the boy, I took his body and dumped it into a deep river bed. I was careful to throw that blasted necklace down there with him. If searchers didn't find it near the body, they'd know something was amiss. When they did find him, everyone mourned the loss. Some think he fell down there in the dim evening light. Others think it was suicide. I don't care what they think. No one thinks I killed him and that's what's important. On the contrary, they offer me their deepest condolences at losing a dear friend so soon after losing my wife.

As the throng of people that loved Kurama head away from the cemetery to drown their sorrow in food and drink, Eleanor approaches me. I can't hold back my smile at the sight of her. I have one more Scarborough left and she has the same understated beauty as her brother. Her eyes shine with unshed tears and I open my arms to her invitingly. She runs to me and sobs into my chest. Oh, how I wish this were Kurama I hold. I chide myself. There is no point in dwelling on things I cannot change. I have an eternity ahead of me and many things will pass away in that time.

"Karasu," Eleanor's muffled voice speaks my name. I place a finger under her chin and lift her face so I can see it properly.

"What is it, my dearest?"

She steps back and takes a moment to compose herself.

"Karasu, I can't marry you. I…I can't be here anymore, not with Kurama and Marie gone. I've made plans to live with my aunt and uncle in Asheville."

I didn't anticipate this! Asheville is in the mountains, hundreds of miles away. Perhaps…

"Perhaps I can go with you. We can start a new life there."

She shakes her head. "I can't and that's final. I just can't. I'm sorry."

"But I love you!" It's worth a try. If anything will make her stay, that would.

"I don't…think you do." My heart would have stopped if it were beating to begin with. She looks so like Kurama, the way her eyes narrow and the brow furrows ever so slightly. But what is that? It's that cross! She wears Kurama's cross charm around her neck on a new chain. It glints in the sunlight the same way Kurama's eyes might glint with mirth.

I've lost, haven't I? I subdued and killed that boy but he won and, wherever he is, he knows it. He knows that his beauty will haunt me all my endless nights. He knows he saved Eleanor.


End file.
